


5 Times Derek Ignored His Phone and the One Time He Answered

by occasionalwriter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Depressed Stiles, Gen, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, Scott is a Good Friend, Stiles Stilinski Gets Shot, derek saves the day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 02:38:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11175258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasionalwriter/pseuds/occasionalwriter
Summary: Derek hates cell phones. Stiles likes to call. Derek still manages to get the point across when he doesn't answer but he answers at just the right time according to Stiles.





	5 Times Derek Ignored His Phone and the One Time He Answered

 

1.

Being part of a pack that was a majority teenagers had it’s downsides. Mostly, that they felt the need to text Derek all the time about literally anything on their minds. Stiles says it’s good for them, to bond or something like that, so they’re all in a group message together. Derek hates it.

Not to mention, Stiles likes to call. Derek never really enjoyed talking on the phone even if it was his family or close friends but he absolutely despises it now. You can’t see the person’s face that you’re talking to, you can’t read their body language, and you can’t just ignore what they say like you could in a text.

So, when Stiles called at 2 in the morning on a Friday night, Derek wakes up just long enough to press ignore and fall back asleep. Stiles was fine. He always was. And, since he’d found out that alcohol was a great way to forget what he did with the Nogitsune, he’s been more inclined to drink it. That’s when he decides to call.

When Derek woke up the next morning it was to a missed call with a voicemail. He groaned in anticipation for what he’d find and reluctantly pressed play. There was a lot of shuffling, some grunts, and then what sounded like the phone dropping onto the ground. A few seconds later it was back in someone’s hand and then Stiles started talking, or more accurately, slurring out some story about someone who’d tried to dance with him but Stiles was too drunk and ended up having to dart to the bathroom to throw up. There’d been a few more details in there but in the end, he was just complaining about almost having someone to hook up with and then missing out on the opportunity.

Derek sent Stiles a text to make sure he was alright and when he received _hungover af but good_ just a minute after he’d sent it, he figured it was alright. Then, another couple minutes later his phone dinged again with a _sorry I drunk called you._

2. 

Stiles would like to think he was handling his life pretty well. He’d gone through a lot, seen a lot, and conquered a lot of things that no one else in the world could probably say they’d conquered and he was still alive and kicking. He knew he was doing alright.

But some days, it was hard to remember that. Hard to get past the fact that despite all that he’d been through, it likely wasn’t over. Allison’s death wasn’t going to be the last one he saw. His mother’s death wouldn’t be the last parent he lost. And fighting the shapeshifters just two weeks ago likely wouldn’t be the last time he felt as if he was fighting a losing battle.

So, some days he wasn’t quite confident that the next day was worth surviving through and it resulted in him barely being able to get out of bed. Today was one of those days. His dad was pretty understanding about the whole thing, letting him take the days he needed with only a few looks of concern before he headed off to work with the usual ‘Call if you need anything at all. At any time.’ Thrown over his shoulder.

It wasn’t until around noon that Stiles could get up the energy to get out of bed. He fell into a heap on the couch and paged through his contacts mindlessly. Usually, he’d call Scott to get him out of his funk but he felt a little bad always putting the pressure on him.

He was calling Derek before he could think about pressing call.

Not so shockingly, Derek didn’t answer the call and it left Stiles at his answering machine. Stiles debated hanging up but figured that would just annoy Derek more than making him have to listen to a two minute message so he cleared his throat and said, “Hey dude. Sorry, I know you’re probably busy doing contractor work or whatever it is you’re doing now. Uhm, just kind of a shit day so… yeah. No worries. I’ll be fine by tomorrow. Sorry.”

Then Stiles fell asleep curled up on the couch and he wasn’t quite sure why he was feeling so dejected all of a sudden. It turns out, feeling that bad can make someone sleep for a lot longer than planned which means that Stiles didn’t wake up until five in the evening. He was thanking the sunset for waking him up before six because if his dad came home and he was passed out on the couch he’d probably just become more concerned with Stiles than he already was. Turns out having shades that don’t quite cover the window were more beneficial than you’d think.

He sat up, pulling the knots out of his back and stretching out his arms before reaching for his phone that had fallen onto the ground during his little nap. He had to scrub his eyes a little bit before they’d focus on the screen and he felt a little bit better seeing the two missed calls from Derek and three unread messages. Apparently, Derek didn’t leave voicemails.

Instead he just sent whatever he needed to say across a span of three messages.

_Call me back._

_Okay I’m guessing you’re asleep_

_Sorry you’re having a shit day. You can come over if you need to. Or I can come over if you need me too. If you need anything let me know._

In spite of the screwed up day Stiles was having, that brought him a little happiness. Derek, of all people, had shit days more than almost anyone else and he had managed to make himself into a pretty decent human being.

3.

Derek liked the days when people had flip phones. Not because he hated progression or anything of the sort but because he hated, absolutely loathed, being butt-dialed. Stiles and Scott just rolled his eyes when he said that, saying he needed to chill out because it was just an accident, not meant to upset him. But, when those somehow happened to be the only calls you answered, it was frustrating to find out that there wasn’t even a person on the other end.

So, when he answered the call from Stiles and got a lot of fabric on fabric sounds, he was a little pissed off. He was about to hang up when he heard Stiles’ voice rise in anger and he resisted for just a moment before deciding to eavesdrop.

“Scott, you can’t honestly believe that that’s a smart idea.”

“I don’t have any other idea Stiles! You’ve got a gun!”

“A gun that doesn’t have any bullets in it.” Stiles said, scarily calm, “The bullets aren’t in the house, they’re somewhere far enough away and safe enough that I won’t ever use it in a moment of weakness. “

“Your dad should know.” Scott says, voice dropping with Stiles’ but still sticking resolutely to what he believes would be right.

“My dad wouldn’t benefit in any way from knowing.”

Scott pauses for a second and Derek hears him shifting on his feet, “Where are the bullets?”

“Somewhere safe.”

“Somewhere that you’ll have to go through a person to get to them?”

A beat, “Yes.”

“That’s a lie.”

Stiles should’ve known better than to lie about that, especially to Scott. He may not be very practiced in knowing chemo signals but he was better at figuring out lies than most other werewolves.

“Scott…”

“Give them to me.” Scott says then, “I won’t tell if you give them to me.”

“Your mom will find them and you know it. I’m not going to let you get into that sort of trouble.” Stiles says with a little sigh.

“Fine. Then you have one day. If you can figure out someone who will hold onto them for you, someone that won’t just give them up the second you ask, then I won’t tell. Otherwise, you have to get rid of the gun. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you had it.”

It takes a couple seconds before Stiles to finally agree to the terms and he hears Scott let out a breath of relief before he’s yanking Stiles in for a hug, Derek can hear the two of their chests bump together and then Scott’s arm coming around to rest on Stiles’ back.

“I’m okay.” Stiles promises.

“I know.”

Then the conversation is over and the two seem to be moving around inside of Stiles’ house which has Derek ending the call and sliding it into his pocket. He tries to go back to work, continuing his sawing for the boards that are meant to be on his back deck, but he can’t help thinking about Stiles on one of his shit days pulling the gun out and being in a bad enough place that he goes to find the bullets.

So, he stops the saw, pulls his phone out, and opens a text to Stiles.

_Give me the bullets._

Stiles doesn’t even bother asking how Derek knew, looking at his own call log and figuring that Derek had overheard on a butt dial which definitely wasn’t the first time that something like that had happened. He chews on the thought for a second, turning his phone around in his hand as he does so which has Scott glancing over at him from his spot on the couch.

“What is it?”

“I’m giving them to Derek.” Stiles says.

Scott doesn’t look at all surprised, which does surprise Stiles but he doesn’t bother questioning it, instead texting Derek back.

_I’ll bring them over tomorrow. Thank you._

4.

“Derek I swear to god…” Stiles muttered as he runs toward the little pond just north of the in-progress Hale house. He about shouted when there wasn’t an answer from the other end and pushed himself to run just a little bit faster.

It took longer than he would’ve liked, and possibly longer than Derek had to wait, for him to get to the pond and it took him another minute to figure out just what the hell was going on in front of him.

Scott and Derek were both chest deep in the water, heads facing the sky without a hint of recognition that someone had joined them in the area. Stiles glanced around and racked his brain to figure out just what could’ve done this to the two of them. Water monsters were quickly becoming his least favorite.

He thought about calling Lydia to come and help, and with her would be Jackson and Danny at the very least. But, when he glanced back at the two werewolves in the pond he realized that there was no chance they’d make it there in time. The water was now up to their necks and creeping up to cover their mouths.

Without really stopping to think, or allow himself to freak out, he pulled off his jeans and hoodie and thanked his past self for grabbing his pocket knife at the last minute. Then he was wading into the pond and ducking under, ignoring the stabbing cold that came with mid-fall temperatures.

He made it out to the two and then dove down underneath them, reaching blindly to their legs and then following them down to underneath their feet where he could feel vines wrapped around their ankles and down to what he presumed was the bottom of the pond.

He went up to get one last breath of air before sawing at the vines and hoping that releasing them would knock them out of whatever trance they were in. It took long enough that the water had started to creep into their mouths for him to cut it but he finally hit a stroke of luck when the vine snapped and Scott’s arms and legs started thrashing.

He made quick work of Derek’s who did the same thing once he was free, reaching down to pull Stiles up as soon as he could move and then swimming the both of them behind Scott to the edge. The three collapsed in a heap on the shore to catch their breaths before finally managing to get themselves upright.

“You guys good?” Stiles asks, pulling his sweatshirt back on to hopefully preserve a little bit of warmth.

“Good.” Scott nods, “Thanks man.”

Stiles gives his shoulder a squeeze before turning to check on Derek who’s pulling a waterlogged phone out of his jeans. After shaking it out a little bit he flips it open and turns it back on.

“Dude, if your phone can turn on after that your phone is too old.”

Derek rolls his eyes and then mutters, “Sorry I didn’t answer your call.”

5.

Stiles was an idiot. He said things before thinking them through a lot more often than he really should and he loved to toe the line between funny and insulting on a regular basis. He knew that he sometimes did a little more than toe the line and that night had been one of those times.

Derek wasn’t sensitive about much, he’d gotten used to being the person that people were afraid of and he was used to people thinking that he was some sort of criminal. He could deal with all of that. What he couldn’t deal with was people joking about his upbringing, the small part of his life that he’d had his family.

Stiles had said something along the lines of ‘did your mother even try to teach you manners?’ at one point and everyone had gone silent, creeping away from the death glare that Derek was leveling at Stiles. Stiles mentally face palmed himself, groaning internally and then starting to  apologize profusely but before he could get the first sorry out, Derek was stalking out of his house and peeling his car out of the driveway.

Scott, Malia, Lydia, and Isaac all left quickly after that, leaving Stiles to wallow in his own idiocy for the rest of the night. He tried to forget about it and just leave Derek be by getting onto his computer and attempting to do some homework but less than an hour later he was going to Derek’s contact and hitting call.

Unsurprisingly, Derek ignored him. Stiles had no doubt that he’d seen the call and just refused to answer it, not that Stiles could really blame him with all things considered. So, he waited patiently for the voicemail beep.

“Derek, I know I’m probably the biggest fucking idiot in the world to you right now and also the biggest asshole in the world. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, it was stupid and wrong and insensitive and I know that. I know this probably won’t make up for it but, for the record, your mother did a pretty good job at raising a bunch of wolves to be better people than most the humans out there. I’m sure she was a wonderful woman and you’re a good guy too. So, I’m sorry. So sorry. I get that you don’t want to talk to me but I seriously am the stupidest person in the world. Sorry.”

Stiles didn’t hear from Derek for another three days and he didn’t realize how much he’d grown accustomed to hearing from him until there was radio silence between them. Luckily, there hadn’t been any supernatural threats that would require them to speak so Stiles was just hoping Derek was taking the time to accept his apology.

When the fourth day rolled around was when Stiles finally got a text from Derek: _you are a fucking idiot._

Before Stiles could respond there was another message dinging in.

_Come over. Bring Scott. We’ve got a problem._

And Stiles figured it was okay because otherwise Derek would’ve just texted Scott and told him that whatever the threat was would be too dangerous to include Stiles which would immediately make Scott agree to keep him in the dark. So they were alright.

+1

Stiles and Scott agreed to just meet at Derek’s, figured that it’d be quicker that way. They took off seconds after Derek’s text, doing their best to try and figure out what was going to happen before they faced whatever Derek was going to tell them.

Stiles was almost there, he knew Scott would be just pulling up to Derek’s about now and he had about three minutes of his drive left. He glanced down at his phone when a text from Derek, presumably asking where he was, set off the vibrations. In the two seconds it took for him to look back up, there was someone in the middle of his lane. He slammed on his breaks and skid to a stop inches from hitting them.

He stared bewildered as they stood still as a rock, not flinching despite the near death encounter they’d just had. That was enough for him to fumble on his phone just long enough to hit call on his screen. Then there was another person walking onto the road a bit farther away than the one in front of him and before Stiles could even think to put his car back in reverse and get the hell out of there, an arrow was aimed straight at his heart.

He could faintly hear Derek yelling at him, assuming another butt dial Stiles’ assumed, but he was too focused on the person taking a few more steps toward him to try and give Derek some hint of what was going on.

The person didn’t take any time though, stopping just short, winking, and then letting the arrow fly.

Stiles thanked whatever saint put this new windshield on his Jeep after the last small crack (entire blowout) had required a new one. It did just enough to shift the arrow so instead of it finding a home in Stiles’ heart, it went about four inches lower and his last second dodge put it just between a couple of his ribs on his left side.

That got Derek’s attention, the shattering windshield and choked off expression of hurt that Stiles let out as the two people came toward him. Stiles tried to focus his eyes, brush away that tears that had built up as the pain built up like a wave inside of him. He looked down at the arrow and humored the idea of yanking it out and seeing if he could get out of the car and away from them but something in his brain clicked back in to place and instead, just as the one who’d unflinchingly stood in the road was about to pull open his door, he was slamming his foot back down on the gas and the lurch forward had his vision swimming once again.

The wind that was tunneling into his eyes due to the hole in the windshield made the drive even worse, then the fear as he heard an arrow hit his bumper, assumedly inches above where his tire was so they could get him to stop.

He absently grabbed for his phone, keeping the other hand on the wheel and letting the blood flow because he only had two hands and he figured his best bet was getting help.

“Derek.”

“Stiles! What the fuck just happened? We’re coming toward you.”

“They shot me with an arrow,” he heaved out, riding out another wave of pain.

He heard a grunt of frustration from Derek, a mumble to Scott, and then Derek was saying, “We hear your Jeep. Pull over. We’ll get there before they can.”

Stiles did just that, getting to the side of the road just in time to see the two of them coming around the curve of the road in front of him. He put it in park and dropped the phone, freeing up both of his hands to press around the arrow as his head fell backwards to rest on the seat.

He realized that he started losing pockets of time when the doors on either side of him were being yanked open without him noticing anyone getting closer. Scott was in the passenger seat, looking at him with those terrified eyes and immediately ripping his jacket off and pressing it to Stiles’ ribs.

Derek is on his other side, rumbling a little with a barely held in growl as he tries to see just how much damage has been done. He’s putting a hand to Stiles’ back and inching it down slowly to see if the arrow made it already through and lets out a sigh of relief when there’s no exit wound, at least Stiles’ wasn’t bleeding out more than they thought.

Then the two of them are both flipping around to look at the way Stiles came from and he can feel Scott grab his hands, press them up against his jacket and say, “Hold on.”

Then they’re both gone and he’s trying to breathe as his body starts to go numb. He’s trying to listen, hear what exactly is going on behind him but he’s not willing to turn his body and risk causing any more internal damage than he already knows is there.

He hears himself mutter something like ‘come back’ without being fully aware that he’d done it but it must’ve done the trick anyway because then Derek is at his door and trying to look reassuring in a way that isn’t reassuring at all. He puts one hand on the jacket, renewing the pressure that had been severely lacking after Scott let go, and nodding a little bit to Stiles.

“You’re going to be okay, just hold on.”

Scott’s back then and Stiles knows there’s probably two dead bodies not too far away from him but that doesn’t really concern him because his vision is narrowing and Scott is letting out a choked off sob and trying to whisper to Derek, “His hearts slowing down, we have to get him to the hospital.”

Stiles assumes he was trying not to worry him but he failed spectacularly because his eyes fly back open, even though he’s not sure when he shut them, to look at Scott. Derek sends him a glare and is then manhandling Stiles up and over the middle of the front seat to rest on Scott’s lap who seems like he’s not sure what to do with his hands.

“Keep him calm, put pressure on it. I’ll get us there.”

Then the car is moving again and Stiles’ head is resting on the passenger window as Scott presses hard on the jacket around his middle, using his other hand to pull all the pain he can. It takes him a minute to realize that the pressure on his leg is Derek’s hand trying to pull the pain as well.

He hears the sound of someone on the phone and tries to get his vision to focus on Derek who has is holding his phone up with his shoulder of his driving arm and trying to get a hold of someone to go take care of the bodies.

“Stiles!”

Stiles turns to look at Scott who breathes a sigh of relief that after the fifth or so time saying his name Stiles finally seemed to have heard him, “Talk to us, stay awake.”

“I’m awake.” Stiles argues, realizing that it’s pointless because he’s well aware Scott is just trying to keep him that way, “Who was it?”

“It was who Derek called us about.” Scott says, “Some hunters disappointed with the Argent’s ‘grasp’ of Beacon Hills who wanted to get rid of us for good. They thought going after you would send a message at least.”

“Message received.” Stiles mutters, looking back to Derek who’s hung up the phone and is now flying down the road at what Stiles is sure must be twice the speed limit.

“Chris is going to take care of the bodies.”

And that’s the last thing Stiles remembers before waking up to the tell-tale sounds of a hospital room. He groggily turns to his left, hand reaching out to where he assumes the bedside table will be and searching for his phone blindly.

A hand around his wrist stops him though and before he can shake it off whoever it is is putting it gently down on the bed. “Stop moving so much.”

“Why are you here?”

“How kind.” Derek responds, handing Stiles the half filled up of water that he gestures at as soon as his eyes are clear enough to realize what it is. “I was expecting at least a hello.”

Stiles groans as soon as he moves and despite Derek’s adamant need to seem stoic, he puts a hand back on Stiles’ arm and starts pulling the pain. Stiles would usually tell him to stop, but whatever they’re pumping into him via IV combined with the stabbing pain makes him nauseated and he can’t really force himself to move away. “I just figured my dad would be here so he could immediately lecture me.”

“He had to go to work. There’s some specifics with your case that need more looking into. And he’d been gone for a while.”

That wakes Stiles up a bit and he searches for his phone again. When he can’t find it he looks expectantly at Derek who doesn’t seem to get the hint, “What day is it?”

“It’s been five days.” Derek says, “You had an infection that kept you out for a while. And, obviously, the arrow.”

“How’d you explain it to the doctors?”

“Deer hunting gone wrong.” Derek says, “Then the body they ‘found’ was the hunter who’d conveniently stumbled off a cliff.”

It goes quiet for a little bit, Stiles digesting everything and trying to fight the feeling that he already wants to go back to sleep. The two speak up at the same time and both fall back into quiet awkwardly.

“Is there something I should be worried about?”

Derek looks confused and shrugs a little bit, “No? Why?”

“If Scott and my dad are both gone then I’m obviously not at immediate risk from dying. At least not due to medical concerns. So, is there another reason you’re here?”

“I figured you wouldn’t want to be alone…” Derek says awkwardly, gaze shifting down to his hands, “Scott’s been here as much as he can but his mom made him go home to shower. Everyone's been to see you at least once."

Stiles is going to attribute his confusion to the medication.

“They’re worried about you.” Derek spells out. “You’re not in danger of any hunters or anything. Once you’re cleared of infection you’re allowed to leave. Got it?”

He’s nodding then and shifting a little bit in the bed, “But I’m okay? Like, I’m not going to lose functioning in my legs or anything.”

“No.” Derek responds, pulling his hand back now that Stiles is feeling good and woozy, “You’ll be alright.”

Stiles sighs, starts to close his eyes again, and starts to fall asleep. Just before that moment when you know you’re falling asleep, he’s startling awake again and says, “Thank you. For staying. And for coming to get me. And answering your fucking phone for once.”

Derek smirks, “No problem.”


End file.
